


In Any Version of Reality, Chosen

by tungstenpincenez



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Based on other source material, Blood and Violence, Childhood Memories, Demons, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Mythology References, Non-Graphic Violence, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2019-08-01 21:27:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 16,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16292126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tungstenpincenez/pseuds/tungstenpincenez
Summary: The relationship between Thor and Loki remains constant despite differing circumstances.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Using the concept of a remix, I'd like to explore how the Thor/Loki pairing could work. These will be a series of short, independent scenes based on a film, tv series, book, etc. Source material noted at the end of the chapter.

The two children glared at one another from across the room as they heard the cabin door click with a firm shut.

They had both reverted to their usual form: one, a blond boy of eleven with brilliant green eyes; the other, a raven-haired girl of the same age with eyes the colour of the sky.

The argument had begun as any would at that age: a silly misunderstanding. But it quickly got out of hand upon the discovery that they were both shapeshifters, a rare gift both had thought they uniquely possessed—well, amongst the children of the camp, at least. The little girl knew she’d inherited the trait from her mother.

And it had taken both of them adopting each other’s appearances for things to come to a head. One of the counsellors would need a week’s bedrest to recover from the combined power the children had unleashed at one another, powers that, on their own, were formidable enough, but in tandem… wreaked havoc.

After what seemed like an interminable period of petulant silence, the boy sighed and muttered, “I’m sorry I called you a snotty know-it-all.”

The girl raised a brow and retorted, “Well, I’m not sorry I said you were a pompous show-off because you are. However, I apologize for suggesting that you were poorly brought up.” She hesitated and then said softly, “I know what it’s like to not have both parents.”

He shrugged. “Dad and I get by. Helps that there’s Aunt Pepper to do ‘the mothering stuff’, as she calls it.”

Her curiosity got the better of her. “I overheard you mention several uncles that you live with. You must come from a large family. I… I wish there was more than just Mom and me.”

He gave a wry grin. “Trust me, you’re not missing anything. You don’t know what it’s like to be the target of a whole group of adults yelling at you for doing something wrong. One time, Uncle Tony got so mad, he called me ‘Loki-spawn’. Dunno what that is, but it must be something terrible. Everyone just sorta froze when he said that. Dad wouldn’t talk to him for days… what’s wrong?” 

The girl had gasped at the term and was now staring at him with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open.

“C’mon, stop looking at me like that! If you know what that means, tell me!”

It took several moments before the girl recovered from her piscean behaviour. Taking a deep breath, she finally said, “Loki is my mom’s name.”

It was now the boy’s turn to enact the deer in headlights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the movie "The Parent Trap".


	2. Chapter 2

They were very young—infants in the eyes of Asgardians—when they stole into Idunn’s orchard to climb the tallest tree. They sat upon a high branch, eating of the sacred fruit, giggling quietly at their success, their short legs dangling off the side, heels hitting the smooth bark as they swung. 

Thor glanced up and espied an especially large and golden apple, hanging near the edge of the canopy and glinting in the sunlight. He pointed to it excitedly and, heeding his brother’s cheeky dare to obtain it, began his climb. He ensured his footing near the end of the branch and stretched. He touched a finger to the apple but underestimated his weight. With a cry, he felt himself falling. By some grace of the Norns, he managed to cling to the branch upon which he had been laughing over his latest adventure with his brother. 

Loki had let out a cry when his brother tumbled, and he now scrambled to where his brother was valiantly grasping the life-saving branch and attempting to hoist himself up. Grabbing his brother’s wrists, he pulled. Thor managed a foothold and began his struggle against the inviting pull of the ground. In the next moment, Thor found himself on his stomach, hanging top and end off the branch, desperately kicking to regain his balance as he struggled with the weight of Loki dangling from his wrists. Thor’s motions had caused Loki to lose his footing in turn, and the young boy was now holding for dear life to his brother, praying to the Norns that his tired arms would not lose their grip.

“Hang on, brother! Do not let go! I have you!” With a grunt of sheer determination, Thor managed to twist his hands to grab those of his brother and hoist him to safety. Before Loki could recover his breath, it was taken from him amidst the crushing hug from a relieved Thor. “I have you, brother! I will never let you go!”

~*~*~*~

A few centuries later found them hunting in the deep wooded hills of Alfheim. Alas, in recklessly following his brother’s mad scheme to chase after their prey, Loki once again found himself dancing with death, but this time upon the edge of a tall cliff, his only lifeline a pair of strong hands clutching his wrists.

“I have you, Loki! On the count of three!” Thor heaved and Loki felt momentarily airborne as a fish hooked from the sea. He fell heavily atop his brother. And noticed, as he panted in relief, how mesmerizingly blue his brother’s eyes were. The seemingly endless expanse of sky tone slowly diminished as the fear left Thor, his pupils returning to normal. 

They could have stayed thusly for an eternity if Loki had not begun protesting discomfort from entrapment within his muscled cage.

~*~*~*~

They were drunk. Drunk on the euphoria of their first battle won and on too much mead. It was but a skirmish on the borders of a small realm under Asgardian protection. But it had been the first that Thor had led, with Loki his stalwart second-in-command.

Amidst the raucous singing of their soldiers, Thor had roared for all to retire for the evening, for they had a long trek to the capital in the morning to report their success before the journey home by bifrost. Arm in arm, he and his brother retired to their tent, still laughing and discussing their victory.

Thor’s foot caught upon the edge of his fur throw, his landing softened by Loki, who grunted breathlessly in displeasure at the bulk. A moment later, they burst into laughter at their predicament. 

Loki pushed teasingly against Thor. “Get off me, you overweight bilgesnipe!” 

Thor grinned. “Not without first a kiss!” 

Loki stared, mirth forgotten. “What?”

Thor’s mind caught up to his words, and he, too, abruptly sobered. “I—I…”

They could never recall with clarity what happened subsequent, but in a blur of clumsy limbs, frenzied desire, and breathless unheeding of consequence, they found themselves entangled upon their makeshift bedding of fur and linen. Between frantic kisses and gasping moans, they gazed into one another’s eyes as Thor established a quick, steady rhythm. 

As their need reached its zenith, Thor groaned and begged, “Come for me, brother, my Loki. Let go—I have you, _hjarta minn_.”

Loki sobbed his brother’s name and embraced bliss.

~*~*~*~

Thor's frightened eyes bore into his brother’s as he desperately bellowed for Loki to hold on.

But then, his father uttered words that froze his heart. “No, Loki.” 

Thor would never forget that flash of hurt and disappointment in his brother’s eyes before it was replaced with a look of determined resignation and defiance. 

For months afterwards, Thor would awake screaming his brother’s name from another reliving of the horror.

~*~*~*~

After a council meeting in which it was agreed that even as ruler of a people whose fate remained unknown, Thor was an equal in stature and right, he was led by a solemn wise woman to an underground chamber, wherein the significance of the ceremonial burial was explained and the King of (Former) Asgard invited to partake.

Thor did not pause to give thought to fear and doubt before drinking of the potion and laying upon the sand.

He found himself stepping upon the soft, rich green of his mother’s garden. Seated upon the stone settee at the far end were two all-too-familiar figures. They rose as he approached, smiling invitingly. Thor’s heart clenched. 

As soon as he was able, he embraced first his beloved mother and then his brother, lover, keeper of his heart. He did not realize his tears until they were gently kissed away.

Loki smiled at him with an expression long-forgotten: carefree, open, loving, _trusting_. Smoothing his close-cropped hair, caressing the cavern wherein his eye once perched, his beloved whispered, “Let go, brother, my Thor, my love. Do what you must, find our people, avenge us. Live for us both and do not hurry your departure from the plane of the living. I will remain here in waiting. We will enter the halls of Valhalla together. Promise me, _elskr_.”

Thor never contravened his avowal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remix of the "Peanuts" comics, specifically the weird relationship between Charlie Brown, Lucy van Pelt, and that infamous football.
> 
> This turned out a lot more angsty than originally intended. Oops.


	3. Chapter 3

When the medical team finally finished their backwards diagnostics and shut the door firmly behind them, Loki breathed a silent sigh of relief. If this were Asgard… he mentally admonished himself: why think on a place from which he was forever banned? 

Using his _seiðr_ to survey the corridor and to spell a “do not disturb” within fifty paces of the door, he slowly emerged from the shadows and approached the figure in the bed. Even heavily bandaged and supine, Thor’s bulk was formidable to look upon. 

Loki gently caressed the careworn face, thankful that the strong brow and firm cheeks had been mostly spared. He hissed in surprise as a large, familiar hand gripped his wrist. He stared into those piercing-blue eyes, which, despite the calming draughts administered, lost none of their fire.

“Brother,” Thor ground out. 

Loki gasped, struggling to free himself of Thor’s manacling grasp. Two tugs later found him sprawled across the vast expanse of his brother’s chest, panting from the impact and the vise of Thor’s arm across his back. 

“Did you intend to forever keep me your plaything? What would become of me once you tired of your fool? Do you despise me so?” Thor’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears.

“Thor, no, I…”

Thor snorted. “What’s this? The silver-tongued trickster bereft of words? If the court of Alfheim could but see our princeling now. Surely, they would wish to revoke the trade agreements betwix the two realms. I—”

Loki pressed a hand to his brother’s mouth and added a tongue-cleaving spell to further silence his angry brother. Taking several deep breaths to temper his own rising ire, he finally said, “I meant you no ill, brother.” He ignored Thor’s snort. “I merely wished to keep my living status from those who would gladly see me perish—by their own hands. You may be many things, but a liar you are not.” He pressed his nose softly against Thor’s and murmured, “Now, if I remove my hand, will you tell me how you withstood my last amnesious spellcasting?” He smiled when Thor grunted in assent.

But having regained his powers of speech, Thor instead sent a sharp pulse of lightning up his arms and watched with a glint of amusement as his brother gave a startled cry… and _growled_ at him, crushing their lips together in a harsh kiss and pressing his hips against Thor’s strong frame. Thor hummed and tightened his embrace until Loki whined in protest. A sharp poke at a tender spot at his side forced him to loosen his grip.

When they paused for breath, the hand shackling Loki’s snaked up the lithe arm to rest at the base of the beloved head, fingers twining into the dark locks. Loki sighed and settled his forehead against the stubborn chin.

“I may not have mastered spellcasting as you, brother, but I _was_ taught alongside you. It is astonishing what memories one recalls when those numerous ones of a certain weaver of deceits have been forcibly repressed.” Thor grinned as Loki harrumphed. “I recalled the spell Mother taught us to ward against opponents wishing to control our minds with dark magics. I was also reminded of the time I was attacked by a swarm of bees because my irate little brother had roped me to the tree and my struggles for freedom so greatly disturbed my wooden jailer that the hive fell upon my head and covered me in sticky-sweet nectar.” Thor kissed the pointed nose. “You had yet to master silent _seiðr_ -weaving, and you frantically spoke the spell of undoing as you sought to unleash me from my chains. Memory of that spell naturally prompted remembrance of the stronger one for reversal. It has taken three months of considerable effort, but I believe I have retrieved all my most enduring memories of you.”

Loki pressed a kiss. “Well, brother, I must admit I am impressed. I must be on my guard henceforth.”

“As will I. In spite your avowals that you would love me even if all nine realms turned to ash.” Thor smiled and pressed light kisses to the pinkened cheeks. “You thought me heavily aslumber as when we were lads. But you forget I have fought many wars… and shared your bed for as many years.”

Loki sighed. He moved to prop himself up, resting his elbows atop Thor’s broad chest. “And what will become of me now that you have learned my truths, such as they are?”

“I will keep safe your secret, brother. None will know your whereabouts through me… so long as you vow you shall never meddle with my memories again. I may not ably lie as you, but I would see that you are safe—with my life.”

Loki sighed again and shook his head. “The noble Thor.”

“Whom you love.”

Loki huffed but did not deny. He cocked his head. “And how shall I avouch? How shall you trust the word of a liesmith and trickster?”

Thor smiled and displaced the wrappings across his chest to expose a rune-mark seared into the flesh near his heart. He touched a finger to it. “This is no scar remnant of battle or brawl. ’Tis the mark of a bond. You would always be alerted were I in peril. As long-forgotten lessons stirred, I recognized it. And I wondered who in all the realms would thus care of my well-being. And then, when I recollected those green eyes and how they would gaze at me as we chased our bliss, I knew.”

The beloved eyes shut tightly, refusing to acknowledge the truth. But Thor cupped the pert arse and ground their hips together, and Loki could not stop the moan that escaped. 

Capturing Loki’s lips again, Thor murmured, “Remove us from this place, _hjarta minn_ , and I will make love to thee until thine voice is lost from screaming my name.”

The staff and security of the hospital were under intense scrutiny for a week following the mysterious disappearance of the VIP patient. Only footage of his presence among his fellow Avengers put a stop to the interrogation.

Meanwhile, Loki remained on Midgard, living a carefree existence and occasionally amusing his brother by stirring trouble in unexpected quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the movie "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind". No Thanos in this AU.


	4. Chapter 4

Even before he uttered a word, Loki recognized the looming presence.

“Hello.”

He looked up into the smiling eyes and his heart went a-flutter. _Amora’s antiquated arse!_ He had stayed away too long. He smiled and tried to school his features.

“If it is not too forward of me, may I join you in a beverage?” 

Of course. It was why he had sat in this quaint café for an hour pretending to read some mediocre Midgardian drivel. Each time Loki stepped foot into a bookstore, his soul wept to see the abundance of words in bound volumes. They reminded him painfully of the tomes he had had to forsake.

Pushing such sour thoughts aside, he cast an admiring eye to the broad shoulders on display. Soon. Soon he would wrap his arms about that wondrous expanse of muscle.

After all, he deserved a reward for his clever game of subtle flirtation.

It had started on the night Thor and that band of heroics had completed another mission and had chosen to stave their pangs of hunger with pizza. Loki had sat in a dark corner, pretending oblivion to the presence of such an illustrious gathering. Naturally, he had bespelled himself so that the mortals would not know him. Only Thor would see his true form, would see that he was not staring in adulation.

A few days later, he allowed Thor to see him at another of those celebrations that admirers of the miscreant posse insisted on holding in their honour. He knew he looked sharp in his tailored, all-black ensemble. This time, he let their eyes meet and linger briefly from afar.

“My name is Thor. And you might be?”

“Loki.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Loki.”

Oh yes. And Thor would thoroughly make their acquaintance through the next fortnight. And the next. Loki ensured it was a proper courtship. A hunter would soon tire if his prey succumbed too quickly.

When finally he allowed his brother into his bed, he _revelled_ but also cursed himself for self-denying the pleasure of Thor’s body between his thighs.

But after three months, Loki wearied of this cage of affection. Ever restless, ever afeared, ever covetous of his time. 

And so, he lay entangled and still within his brother’s embrace until he was assured Thor slumbered deep. Carefully wriggling from the warm encirclement, he brushed a lock of blond hair from the beloved face and pressed lightly against the temple. He coaxed Thor’s mind to gather and withhold all memories of their time together to a dark recess. He spurred Thor to thusly repress a few more reminisces of their shared life together. Thor’s infamous friends knew of his brother, presumed deceased, and the slow loss of remembrances of said brother would be deemed the natural course of existence. After all, immortality did not connote agelessness. 

For this brief affair, he chose to impel Thor’s body to forget the olfactory cues. After the first time, Loki had forced Thor to forget every aspect of him. But when they met again, and Thor had once more fallen in love with this supposed stranger, Loki had been dismayed and _displeased_ at his brother’s fumbling attempts at intimacy. 

Loki arose from the bed and dressed. 

He lingered in the doorway and vowed that _this time_ , he would not return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another scene from the same ESotSM AU of the previous chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

Although they stood almost within arm’s reach, the space between them seemed like a vast chasm. 

Too much history. Too many memories. Too many regrets.

Loki stared wistfully at the small blond figure by his father’s side. Thor, always more open with his emotions, gazed hungrily, _desperately_ , at the little girl with his arresting-blue eyes.

An eternity of inertia later, Loki made the first move. Looking down at her child, she said, “Give me your hand, Arkin.”

Instinctively, the little girl placed her hand trustingly into her mother’s… and felt the warmth of the magic creep up his arm and the subtle changes in his body that reversed his shapeshifting, revealing his true form. 

Loki knelt so that they were at eye level, caressed his cheek, and murmured, “Hello, son.” As she hugged her son for the first time in ten years, she heard Thor’s bellowing laugh as he crushed his daughter to his heart, the tears streaking his face. Thor pressed kisses to every part of her precious head as he could reach. 

So engrossed in the comfort of having her child close at heart, Loki failed to notice Thor’s approach until his arm encircled and crushed them both against his broad chest. She looked up into those bright eyes, those gorgeous, laughing eyes, and felt the last vestiges of resentment fade away—what had they even fought about? It’d been so long that only the bitterness had remained. 

Thor kissed her with the same fierceness and passion as he’d done so often since that first time their lips touched. He tightened his hold, determined never to let go again.

Reluctantly, needing to draw breath, they eased the liplock. Thor pressed a kiss to her forehead and muttered, “Come home, my loveliest.”

She arched a brow. “I didn’t realize you had property here.”

“I don’t. Tony does.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

He grinned and nuzzled her. “Will you come?”

“ _Please_ , Mummy!” Agda used just the right amount of whine that Loki was helpless to refuse.

“Very well.” She eyed Thor. “Think your magic’s competent enough to transport all four of us safely?”

Thor laughed. “As if you’d allow any bits of yourself or the children to be left behind. Besides, I like your bits, _all_ of them.” He beamed smugly as Loki blushed.

“Da-ad, quit yapping and get us to Uncle Tony’s already! I’m starving!”

Their joint laughter was cut short as they disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another scene from the Parent Trap AU of ch 1.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: violence, blood, psychological trauma! dark/mature subject matter.

The writing was on the wall. 

In blood, still dripping, and bits of brain.

The Chief Chancellor should have known better. He was no fool, was Odin. One did not become the commander of the nine protectorates through sheer dumb luck. But he had two blindspots, ballast now become millstones: Thor and Loki.

Odin should never have sent his two best Hunters to deal with the case. They were a formidable team, brains and brawn, the full complementary package. But when it came to these types of demons, they were all too susceptible.

Loki had always had a jealous streak, which the wraith’s power amplified until he lost control, taking over first Thor’s raids, then his prosecutions… then his safehouses. If Thor had had a family, Loki would eventually have coveted that, too. 

And the specter that possessed Thor did not take kindly to being thus sideswiped. Unfortunately, even if they managed a complete exorcism, Thor would never be a Hunter again. Not after having murdered his partner. 

There’d always been rumours that they were partners in every sense of the term, though if it were true, they were always discreet.

Odin stared at the broken figure huddled in the corner of the cell. And sighed.

Envy and Wrath. Two basic human emotions intensified to devastating effect. He’d have to personally track down the other five bogeys. The world was not safe while they were on the loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the movie "Seven".


	7. Chapter 7

After a gruesome skirmish, the young warrior finally succeeded in defeating the Chieftain of the neighbouring tribe. 

As he proudly led his bound prize toward the large tent at the centre of their encampment, a fierce buzzing of whispers followed him. All were struck by the striking resemblance between the victor and the defeated: the same broad build, the height (though the Chieftain’s frame was slightly bent with age and one-too-many battles—he ought not to have been on the frontlines, but his greatest warriors had been defeated, and he was the last hope for his people), the flowing locks (though the young warrior’s was several shades darker). Those who remembered the Chieftain at the height of his prowess noted that their warrior carried himself with the same easy confidence as well.

Having reached the entrance of the tent—it was but a fur throw covering—the young warrior turned and gave a saucy grin at the gathered crowd before throwing aside the covering and ordering the Chieftain to get onto all fours and crawl inside. If the young warrior were but a lowly member of the tribe gone up the ranks, he would have cowered before the mutinous glare of his captive. But he was the son of the tribe’s leader, and he was quite used to such looks. In fact, he was secretly taken aback at the similarity in countenance—perhaps all chiefs acquired the expression over time.

Finally, the fire died in the Chieftain’s eyes, and he struggled into the tent, his bound fists making dull thudding noises despite the furs lining the hard ground. He scarcely paid attention to the boastful report from the young warrior, too caught up in his regrets that, had he not been so foolish, he would have such a son to do battle and perhaps his people would be spared the humiliation to come.

The silence following the warriors accounts was broken by a highly amused, musical, _familiar_ voice. “Well, who would have imagined that the great Thor Odinson could be brought so low?”

Thor’s head snapped up, and he stared slack-jawed at the owner of that voice, seated upon a raised dais and looking at him with a smirk.

When he failed to respond, an elegant brow was raised. “Has defeat robbed you of speech as well?”

“Y-you were dead!” Thor finally uttered in bewilderment. “We… the body by the lake… I dug your grave with my bare hands…” He stared at his shaking palms, and finally, overcome with emotion, he collapsed in heaving sobs. 

Outside, thunder rolled, and a torrent of rain fell.

Suddenly, Thor was yanked from his prone position and soundly smacked across the face. “Control yourself!” a voice snarled beside his ear. “I do not want you flooding our encampment!”

Thor forcibly checked his outpour and, between gulps, issued a litany of apologies. At last, the turmoil both internal and external quieted, he seized his taskmaster in a strangling embrace.

“Let go of me, you oaf!” Strong hands pushed against his chest. Angry green eyes bore into his. 

Thor grinned and pressed a fierce kiss, not pausing until the warm body entrapped within his arms ceased struggling. “I’m never letting you go again. My beloved, my Loki.” He tightened his hold once again, pressing their bodies together. This time, Loki did not resist, instead, tucked her head into the crook of his neck.

“M-mother? What in blazes is going on?”

Loki looked up at her son and smiled shyly, causing the young man further bafflement. “Come and greet your father, my little nuisance.”

“F-father?”

In a flash, Loki escaped from the stronghold and slapped Thor once again across the face. “And now will you believe that I never lay with Volstagg?”

Thor slumped against her, his forehead pressed to her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I should never have believed Amora. When Brunnhilde came forward after your disappearance to corroborate your tale, I… I… and then finding your— _that_ body and learning that you were carrying…” He began sobbing once more. In supplication, his forehead atop her thighs, he pleaded, “Please, you may visit any punishment upon my body, but do not leave me… do not ban me from your lives…”

A soft thud sounded beside him, and strong arms lifted him until his gaze was level with his son’s. The young warrior cut the rope about his wrists and embraced him. “I’m sorry, Father.”

“My boy.” Thor clasped the precious head between his hands. “My son.” He beamed, tears still running down his cheeks, at a loss for words.

Loki huffed. “Yes, yes, your son. You may claim him once you have agreed to my terms for peace. We have both suffered grievous losses. Though the raids by your people that began this war must cease and the perpetrators brought to justice, I do not wish any further suffering. Your tribe will join with ours and you will henceforth be my subjects. My people have pestered me for years to find a suitable husband. The marriage between our two tribal leaders should satisfy them.”

Thor so readily acquiesced to the terms that it was only the presence of their child that prevented him from consummating the union then and there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reacting to all those jealous Shakespearean husbands. The arrogant snots.


	8. Chapter 8

The door flew open with a loud BANG! Upon the threshold stood Thor, incandescent with rage, the sparks causing slight sizzle-popping sounds as they emitted.

“LOKI!” he bellowed as he stepped into the room.

Upon the bed, completely unperturbed, was Loki stretched out, his upper body leaning against the headboard. He had been gazing fondly at the bundle in his arms, and at the thundering of his name, he had looked up with a radiant smile. The bundle moved and emitted a thin wail of distress.

Making shushing sounds and gentle rocking motions, Loki looked up again and said, “Come meet your daughter, _elskr_.”

“D-daughter?” The lightning was immediately extinguished, leaving a travel-weary God of Thunder to lumber slowly toward the bedside. He stood beside his beloved and stared in awe at the babe in his arms.

Loki wrinkled his nose and gave a casual wave, cleansing his love from head to foot, paying especial attention to the upper limbs and face. Satisfied, he carefully placed their daughter into her father’s arms.

Thor cradled his daughter to his chest and beamed, tears welling and wetting his beard. He placed a tender kiss to her forehead, and when she made no protest, began smothering her with light kisses all about her precious head. She cooed. 

Hours later, the babe asleep in her father’s arms—Thor would not relinquish her—the new parents were sat atop their bed, Loki’s head cuddled against a broad shoulder. 

“I am still angry with you,” Thor muttered in an undertone.

Loki snorted. “’Twas your own doing.”

“ _My_ doing? You have sent me on a fruitless chase for _two months_ to seek you and return you to safety. All this while, you have been here! _Why_ , Loki? What have I done to so offend you that you would send me on a wasted mission?”

“You were suffocating me with your over-protectiveness. I could not _breathe_ without you underfoot.”

“You could have simply told me so! I would have given you your space!”

“ _I did!_ You would not heed me! Even when I locked myself away in the library, you _scaled the external wall and barged through the window!_ ”

Thor harrumphed. “Which you promptly threw me out of. It is fortunate that I have suffered worse falls, else you would be the widowed consort keeping the peace until our daughter came of age to rule.”

Loki pinched him. Thor let out a grunt, mindful of the treasure in his embrace. 

“If you were so easily eliminated, I would have ascended the throne long before it was ever discovered that I had no right to inherit. And perhaps—” Loki paused, biting back his sharp words.

Thor sighed and pressed a kiss atop his beloved’s head. “Indeed. Asgard may yet exist. The Infinity Stones may never have been united in our lifetime. But then, we may never have been reconciled. I could now be living out my days upon Midgard, aimless, always longing to return: to home, to you.”

Their eyes met. Thor moved to capture Loki’s lips. When they finally broke apart, Loki gathered their daughter into his arms and placed her into her cradle. He then allowed Thor to envelope him into a tight embrace.

“I apologize for making you miss the birth. I did not intend for the hunt to take so long.”

“I spent three days upon Harokin, reducing a region of rocks to dust for failing to find you. Had I received Heimdall’s summons when it was first sent, I would have been by your side during your ordeal.” Thor sighed. “I have failed you once again.”

“No, _elskr_. Your arrival was timely. The Healers would have barred you from the chambers.” Loki pressed a kiss and then grinned mischievously. “If it will assuage your guilt, you may retrieve the babe and bring her to me to nurse each night. The Head Healer warned that she will not sleep through until the morn.”

Thor chuckled. “I would nurse her myself and let you rest, if that were possible.” His smile slipped as he noticed Loki’s expression. “Loki…”

“I shall check the library first thing on the morrow. ’Tis a pity so few tomes remain to us. I may needs devise a new spell…” 

Thor rolled his eyes. Then tightened his embrace. “ _My_ beloved trickster.”

Loki grinned. “You summoned, my rumbling goatherd?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the movie "Catch Me If You Can".


	9. Chapter 9

Thor blinked and the unfamiliar room slowly came into focus. He looked about the small hut in confusion. The howling winds beyond proclaimed he remained in Jötunheim, but he knew not where he be save that it was not the palace dungeons.

Suddenly, he was engulfed by a steady stream of ice-cold water. He sputtered and hollered in outrage. He curled upon himself as the shock ignited the pain in his wounds. The flow of water ceased.

A pair of slender legs appeared within his field of vision. Looking up, he was met with a pair of arms akimbo and glaring crimson eyes.

Thor’s smile of relief faltered as the frown deepened upon the glowering face. Before he could form words that would not further invoke ire, an icy voice stated, “You have broken your vows to me, son of Odin. For that, your life is forfeit. You shall subsist until I am satisfied with your punishment. Make another foolish attempt on your life and you shall feel the wrath of Loki. Your childish Asgardian tales of the monstrous Frost Giants will pale by comparison.”

Thor snorted. “My life was forfeit the moment I trusted you. I should have heeded the tales told of the silver-tongued liesmith. I was a fool to believe you sincere in your hopes of a true alliance between our peoples.”

The flash of hurt was quickly replaced by contempt. “At least I did not pretend at flatteries of affection only to turn about and liken conquest of the Jötunn whore to that of the whole of Jötunheim before my friends.”

Thor looked shamefaced. “I am sorry, Loki. I should have defended you when Fandral made that remark instead of laughing.” His face hardened. “But you cannot claim innocence when all this time, you connived to steal the Casket of Winters from the vaults. Do what you will, then, heir of Laufey.”

Loki rolled his eyes and scoffed. “You are as witless as your brawn is great, oh mighty Thor. ’Tis true that my pact with my father was to reclaim the Casket. For centuries, my people have suffered from its loss, unable to rebuild our lives after the long wars. Think you that the prosperity of Asgard was solely of your own merit? Or perhaps a gift of the Norns? No, ’twas the price dearly paid of your conquered realms and the misery of those oppressed masses who chose not to involve in the petty rivalries of their leaders and yet suffered of their follies. If peace were indeed the intent, do not the Jötnar deserve a taste of plenty and splendour?”

Thor gaped at him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. 

Loki pinched his nose and sighed. “In his embitterment, my father only desired a return to his former might. I could only convince him on terms he could grasp. And now that I am Wielder of the Casket, he can do naught but cede to my plans to restore the lands.” He snorted. “My mother was right when she claimed his pettiness would be his downfall.”

“Th-then why… do you mean that it is not your ambition to be heir to the throne of Jötunheim?”

Loki raised a brow and smiled a wide, mischievous, _devious_ smile. “How quaint. What know you of ambition, Thor Odinson? You who have been raised in the knowledge that you shall inherit all when the All-Father passes on in glory. No, what is lordship over one realm compared to securing the title of All-Mother to _all_ nine realms?”

Thor gasped. “So that is your game. You speak true: I know not of such ambition.” He sighed. “And I am indeed a witless fool, beguiled by your charms.”

“And I by yours!” Loki flashed but then realized his misspeak and turned away. He gasped and struggled against the large hand that held fast his wrist. “Unhand me, you blundering bilgesnipe!”

Thor gained hold of Loki’s other hand and rose to his full height, wincing in the attempt. Grasping Loki firmly by the shoulders, he forced his squirming spouse’s gaze. “Have you any sensibilities but hatred for me?” 

“How highly you think of yourself, son of Odin. I have never hated you. You were a means to an end.”

“And do you think you could learn to love me?”

Loki went still. “I—I…”

Thor kissed him, engulfing his slender frame in a tight embrace. Loki returned the kisses, his hands finding purchase across the broad back. When finally they paused for breath, Thor touched their foreheads and murmured, “Tell me it was not all a lie, that I have a place in your heart as well as your people.”

Loki sighed, loosened his grip, and took hold of one of Thor’s hands. He slid it down his torso and pressed it against his lower abdomen. Thor’s eyes widened. Giving a small, shy smile, Loki said, “The Jötnar can only conceive when a true bond is established.”

Thor gave a shout of laughter and lifted Loki off his feet in a fierce hug. Pain lanced his side and they fell upon the bed. Loki magicked away Thor’s garments and carefully healed all his wounds. Humming in satisfaction, he pressed a kiss. 

Their exchanges of affection would last well into morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the movie "M Butterfly", played by the brilliant Jeremy Irons and the exquisite John Lone.


	10. Chapter 10

As he helped the gardeners harvest their crop of apples, Thor stared at the perfectly formed fruit in his hand and reminisced of his childhood. He and his brother loved stealing into the orchard at the farthest end of the vast palace gardens at first light. As the sunlight bathed their world in rich golds and flecks of rainbow, Loki would insist on climbing every tree in search of the most flawless specimen. Thor was not so particular, and by the time they descended from the last tree, he would have filled up on all the apples Loki deemed blemished in some way. There had been times when Loki left the copse empty-handed and empty-stomached. It would take all of Thor’s ingenuity to prevent his brother from hiding in his rooms to sulk. 

Thor smiled fondly and set aside the apple. He had thus far collected two baskets of the fruit as he awaited Loki’s return. The last visit had been in the early spring. Loki had only remained three days when a new report had come about yet another crevice, another rent that had failed to heal when they had restored the universe that Thanos had torn asunder. This time, Loki had journeyed with the Sorcerer Strange to restore that corner of the universe. The two had come to a truce: while they could never be bosom friends, they had found a means of peaceful collaboration. 

Thor wondered what gift Loki would bring home on this occasion. Though his return visits had been infrequent, he always brought some object with him to give to Thor for safekeeping. Bits of timber from different trees, some which Thor could not name. A bolt of cloth soft as silk but as resistant to tear as the leathers used for armour. A handful of small vibranium stakes. A chisel from Nidavellir, a particularly fine tool of dwarven make. Two bags of the softest down from some exotic bird living on a small planet beyond the nine realms. A phial of lava from Muspelheim. That final was the most puzzling to Thor. He could only guess that it was needed for some obscure spell that Loki wished to attempt. 

Loki never explained the significance of these gifts. He only repeated that Thor must keep safe the trinkets until his quests were finally fulfilled and he could return, “to stay a good hundred years and rest my weary feet”. Thor placed the newest of the apples into the basket that sat beside Loki’s souvenirs. Every apple gleamed bright and assailed his nostrils with their sweet fragrance. They would not spoil, they would never spoil, not unless the God of Fertility willed it so. They would remain as fresh and crisp as the day they were plucked.

Thor headed toward the bathing chamber to remove the grime and sweat from the day’s work.

~*~*~*~

A slight tingle on his wrist was all the warning he received before Thor found his arms full of a warm body and his lips assaulted by a pair of warm lips. He held Loki so tightly that his beloved moaned a protest, though the kiss did not cease.

Finally, having collected a sufficient number of kisses to offset the months without, Loki pulled back and smiled. “I have missed you, _elskr_.”

Thor beamed, caressing the beloved face. “And I you, _hjarta minn_.”

“Take me to bed. After I have ravished you, I wish to retrieve the objects I have given you to safekeep. I hope you have cared for them.”

When they eventually stood before the shelves and containers wherein his gifts were stored, Loki smiled in satisfaction. He beamed as he examined the apples, taking the topmost and biting into it, moaning in contentment. 

Having bitten through three apples in quick succession, he magically cleansed his hands and retrieved a diagram from a dimensional pocket to hand to Thor. It was a schematic. 

“I wish you to use the materials I have brought home and build this. You have one month to complete this task, and you must not delay even one day.”

The nature of the item that Thor would build soon became apparent, as did its purpose. With each progressing day, Loki’s belly swelled more and more. He had used his magic and his Jötunn heritage to suspend the growth of their unborn child, but now that his adventures to restore the universe were come to an end, it was time to embark on this new one with his beloved.

When they could lay their newborn daughter in her cradle, surrounded by protective essences of all nine realms (Thor had guessed the correct usage of the lava), they stood gazing with overwhelming affection at the tiny, sleeping creature with her father’s blue eyes and her mother’s raven locks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Variation 1 of my remix of The Odyssey.


	11. Chapter 11

As he passed through the gates and headed toward the colossal doors, he smiled. It was as he had imagined from all the accounts and tales he had heard since boyhood. Even the distant raging of Thund was as the minstrels had sung. 

Valhalla. After his long life, he had arrived. And been allowed to enter.

But as he approached, he was surprised at the narrow, winding path pointing to a hidden destination to the rear of the vast structure. He paused, looking toward the doors then looking down once again at the cobblestones surrounded by moss and tendrils of grass. A similar walkway had led into Frigga’s gardens upon the Asgard that was no more. Intrigued, a sense of nostalgia as well as a compulsion overtaking him, Thor found himself drawn along the path. He reasoned that the hall and the warriors within could wait. They had been waiting since time immemorial. What was a short delay in this land? 

He arrived at a garden so familiar that his heart ached. Someone had tended this place in anticipation of his eventual appearance. He glanced about keenly and finally saw the shape of a figure that made his heart leap.

He knew not how he covered the distance between them, but he soon held his beloved in his embrace. And if he remained, never moving one step, immobile for an eternity, he would be content. 

When at last Loki disentangled from their embrace, he smiled and caressed Thor’s cheek. He pressed a finger to his beloved’s lips, declaring softly that they had an eternity for conversation, and led Thor toward a shaded corner of the garden with a low stone bench. Beside it sat what appeared a basket of woven vines. Loki reached in and retrieved a small bundle, which he lay in Thor’s arms.

Thor stared in wonder. A babe. A perfectly formed babe. A beautiful babe. Fast asleep.

Loki’s arms encircled his, but he could not bear to tear his eyes away.

“She has never awoken and has kept me company as I awaited your arrival.” Loki smiled at Thor’s besotted expression. “Come, _elskr_ , we have tarried long. You know that Father can be most impatient.”

Loki led them toward the main doors, all the while maintaining a firm hold on his beloved, who still refused to look elsewhere but at the tiny treasure he bore. The raucous sounds of merrimaking assailed them as they crossed the threshold.

There was a sudden hush as a tiny wail resounded. Thor gasped then beamed as he beheld a pair of brilliant green eyes staring up at him in recognition and trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Variation 2 of my remix of The Odyssey.


	12. Chapter 12

The differences between Thor and Loki were never more marked than when they fought.

Thor would rant and rage. Loki would shut down and cold-shoulder his brother—sometimes literally.

Case in point: now that Thor had come into his own as God of Thunder, he was posing a health hazard to his subjects. After their recent flares of temper, the roofs of every house in their settlement had caved in after the deluge following the monstrous display of lightning and thunder (and seriously, why is it “thunder and lightning” when light clearly travels faster than sound?).

Well, the Head Healer had had enough of their childish, irresponsible behaviour. She had consulted with Sorcerer Wong (she could not ask Sorcerer Strange—too judgemental, despite his brilliance—because while she was angry at her king and the Royal Consort, they were still _her_ rulers) and he had kindly produced a large enough space with the padded walls she had seen used by Midgardian Healers in those animated picture entertainments that the Midgardians were so fond of. 

It had taken all her skill and the assistance of Sif and Brynhild to trap the two miscreants into that conjured cage. And now, she need only wait. Sorcerer Wong had assured her that the cage door would unlock once reconciliation was achieved.

Of course, what the Head Healer could not have anticipated was the overturning and collapse of the structure, revealing Thor and Loki in the throes of passion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the stop-animation cartoon "The Year Without a Santa Claus". And the locked-in-the-cupboard trope.


	13. Chapter 13

They were surrounded by Thanos’ remaining allies, who slowly closed in.

Suddenly, a dome-like barrier formed around them and blocked all incoming weapons and spells. It not only prevented the enemy from advancing but actively injured them when they came into contact. Amazingly, their own missiles, spells, Stark beams, and lightning strikes continued to find targets. The lightning strikes, especially, seemed enhanced by the barrier, injuring more at a greater range.

“ _Elskr_ , you should not be here!” Thor muttered angrily to the caster standing back-to-back with him.

“And wait to collect your corpse at the end of the battle? I think not,” Loki retorted. “Now be useful and lend me your powers. I do not wish to remain on my feet for longer than necessary.”

Thor grumbled but obeyed, turning to wrap one arm protectively about Loki’s chest while keeping the other free and active to take down more enemies.

When all their foes lay vanquished about them, the company stood in anticipation of any reserves. None came. Strange, Wong, and Heimdall used their powers to gauge beyond Midgard, but it seemed that no further attack would be forthcoming. 

As a discussion began about sending a crew to nearby galaxies and realms for news (and possible annihilation) of any remaining supporters of Thanos, Loki collapsed with a scream of pain and would have fallen to the ground if he were not secure in Thor’s embrace. A gush of fluid leaking out of his boots gave too-clear indication of his state.

Thor scrambled to remove his cape before laying Loki atop it. 

“Don’t!” Loki snarled between clenched teeth, and Thor bit back his retort.

They were soon joined by Strange, Wong, and Banner. The two sorcerers quickly erected a sanitary bubble about them and Wong stood guard over it. Strange cast a magical vitals monitor as Banner obtained permission to remove Loki’s garments. Both doctors hesitated.

After another contractional scream, Loki breathlessly shouted, “What is it now?”

“Er, we need to see how dilated you are,” Banner replied uncomfortably. At the Asgardians’ blank looks, he stuttered, “Um, can we, I mean, can one of us, um, down there to see, um—”

“We must ascertain the breadth of your canal to determine when you can begin pushing the babe out,” Strange interrupted. At Banner’s slack-jawed look, he added, “What? Shakespeare was mandatory at school for you as well, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, yes, whatever needs be done to remove this bilgesnipe spawn from me!” Loki grinned pure malice as he pinched Thor and heard his beloved grunt. His expression softened as Thor, refusing to be baited, pressed a kiss to Loki’s temple and shifted them so that his beloved was fully supported against his body.

Within a half-hour, Loki began pushing. Within another hour, he held a squalling babe with blond hair against his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the protective spells of the Hogwarts castle in the Harry Potter series.


	14. Chapter 14

Thor stormed into the rehearsal room short of breath and said in a rush, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! The car broke down and I had to grab a taxi. And it was his first day on the job and he got lost and…” His eyes widened and he gaped. 

Staring at him from a seated position was a tall and lean (and _gorgeous_ ) man with jet-black, shoulder-length hair and piercing green eyes. Both his lips and his brows were drawn in extreme disapproval. And slight contempt. 

_Shit_. It was the cute guy Thor had so unfortunately spilled wine all over his pristine-white tux at the New Year’s Eve charity gala two months ago. He’d wanted a name—and maybe a phone number—but had gotten a snarl and a slap across the face instead. And from the ugly look in the man’s eyes, he’d not forgotten the incident either. _Shit._

A voice in their peripheral cleared its throat. Thor noticed for the first time the presence of Tony Stark, famous ( _infamous_ according to his three ex-wives) _avant garde_ composer, conductor, director, and, more importantly in this instance, creator-producer of the new opera that Thor had been hired to perform in. Well, that’s if he didn’t get fired first after such an abysmal first impression on the first day of work.

“Hey, Thor! Glad you could make it! Have a seat. We were just getting started.” Once Thor had lumbered meekly into his seat, Tony continued, “So, I was just beginning to tell Loki about my vision for the production. You both know the Looney Tunes, right? Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck and the gang? Great! Ever seen those opera-inspired cartoons with Elmer Fudd? Excellent! Well, my opera is based on the dramatic Viking one with the thunderstorms and ballet number and Romeo-Juliet top-of-stairs duet, you know the one. I was just relaxing in the bath one night and it was on TV, and I swear I had one of those Greek genius moments—nearly emptied all the water onto the floor! So, here’s what I have in mind for the whole two-hour show…”

At the end of Tony’s pitch, Thor was slack-jawed in amazed admiration. It was genius! No wonder Tony’s operas were always sold out within the first week. And the man was savvy: he never allowed more than ten shows before moving the whole thing to a new city for another series of limited engagements. He always claimed in interviews that he was easily bored and could never stay in one place for long. Well, that might be true, but his method created high demand and anticipation from audiences, some who would follow him around the world in order to see his shows more than once. And after six months, he’d disappear for three and then come back with the announcement of a new project. 

“So, that’s my idea! I don’t need to ask if you two have gone through your parts. You’re pros. So, let’s do some warm ups and then try out the parts, see how your voices mesh. And tomorrow, you’ll meet the rest of the cast and we’ll go through the whole thing. I know this is unorthodox, but I’ve always liked sitting with the leads to pitch my idea and iron out any problems they might have. I find that if I can get them on my side, it’s easier to convince the rest of the group. OK, enough talk. Hey, Bruce, can you get us started on some la-la-las?”

By the end of the rehearsal, it was all Thor could do but refrain from jumping Loki’s bones. He had an _exquisite_ countertenor voice. You’d never know looking at the man that he possessed such a high ranging, flexible, crystal-clear voice—there was nothing effeminate about him. Because of his size ( _thanks, Dad_ ), Thor had always been cast as the warrior-hero in the beefy male lead roles. He’d just had a successful run playing the title Siegfried part and barely had two weeks off when he’d gotten the call.

At least Loki had stopped frowning. Once work started, he was the consummate professional. And by the end of their first duet together, Thor swore the man even looked approvingly. He knew his voice was pretty good, but he always felt inexplicably gratified when others made it obvious that they thought so, too. _Such a puppy for approval_ , said a nasty voice in his head. _Fuck off, Hela._

“That was amazing! Thanks so much for coming in today! I think we’ve got the major plot stuff figured out. See you guys tomorrow! And hey, Thor, I’ll send over a car. No, really, don’t worry about it. It’s just ’til yours is fixed.”

*~*~*~*

As his breathing slowed, Thor kissed away the beads of sweat about Loki’s face. He’d already gone completely soft, but he was still reluctant to remove himself from the snug heat of Loki’s body. And his lover’s serenade was still ringing in his ears. Baroque colatura had never sounded so sexy when mingled with breathy moans and the screaming of his name. He might never be able to sit through a live performance of a Handel opera again without getting an erection.

Loki pressed a soft kiss and got off Thor’s lap. He donned his robe and then called back as he left the room, “If you still have any breath left, I want to go through the duet in scene three…”

As Thor obediently followed behind, he looked admiringly at the firm butt cheeks outlined by the silken material. And marvelled once again at how quickly they went from strangers at odds with one another to lovers sharing a rented flat near the opera house. They were less than two weeks out from opening night. The nerves were starting to show. Thor felt in his bones that the production would be an instant hit, but it only took one bad comment after preview to unravel all the hard work and passion and dedication. He’d experienced it first hand in Vienna, and he still occasionally woke up in the middle of the night in a sweat.

But he needed to focus. He wasn’t as good as Loki at compartmentalizing. _Act two, scene three, here I come. No pun intended._

*~*~*~*

The opera was a hit. Only Tony Stark had the balls to pull it off. Only Tony Stark could stretch a six-and-a-half minute cartoon short into a full two act production complete with twenty Valkyries prancing around _en pointe_ and a set design that, while mimicking the original Noble style, added a Dali-cubist twist that was just, well, Starkist.

Flushed with this success and having completed the usual six month, ten country run, the trio decided to embark on a second joint venture. Loki insisted that he and Thor would also be co-producers. 

Bad idea.

They were two of the biggest divas. And ever since the first day, they’d been fighting over everything, from the costumes to the stage design to who would exit stage right.

 _Creative differences my iron-tight arse._ Tony leaned against the podium pinching his nose and rubbing his face in frustration as, on stage, Loki and Thor enacted another lover’s tiff before the entire company. How Loki had managed to switch out the prop hat for _real_ shaving cream was anyone’s guess, especially given the tight ship that stage manager Natasha ran. But Thor was dripping in the stuff and ready to throttle his partner. 

Thankfully, Natasha called an emergency time-out. Thor stormed off the stage. A smirking Loki soon sauntered away, one of very few who could look so stylish in a barber’s uniform. 

_God, I hope they’re not off to have angry, make-up sex._ “ARRRRGGHHH!” Tony didn’t care if he scared the prissy violinists. He _did not_ want to dwell on that thought.

“Tony. TONY!”

Tony reluctantly looked up from the pit at Natasha, her hands on hips, knowing he was about to be chewed out. But he must have looked pitiful and defeated enough because her expression softened, and she said, “I’m going to have a talk with them. But I swear, if this happens again, I’m walking!”

Tony did a kowtowing motion with his hands.

*~*~*~*

Thor stared at the house from the back seat in mounting horror as they arrived. Wow, they’d really pissed Natasha off. When she’d told them that she’d booked a weekend for them to go off and settle things, he’d expected a remote cabin in the woods.

But Natasha proved once again why no one ever messed with her. _Ever._

The door flew open, and there stood his older sister in all her glorious indignation. “You two! Inside! Get!” After the door slammed shut, she barked, “Upstairs! Clean clothes and clean faces! Kitchen in fifteen minutes!”

Loki gave him a look and headed up the stairs with as much dignity as he could muster. 

By nightfall, they were both wondering why they weren’t in Africa improving the lives of poor children or saving the elephants from poachers instead of wasting their lives in childish squabbling.

Though it was a testament of her love for her brother and how proud she was of his success that she said not a word about regretting having slaved away at three jobs to pay for his Julliard training. 

In bed and facing each other, though not entangled as they usually were, Thor said, “I’m sorry. I’ve been a jerk.”

“Yes, you have, but I’ve been just as difficult. Maybe we should give creative control back to Tony. Seems we can’t be in charge.”

“Yeah, I’ll phone him tomorrow morning. I think he’ll be relieved.” He reached out a hand to caress Loki’s cheek. “I’d rather be fired than continue to fight with you.”

Loki rolled his eyes but leaned into Thor’s hand. “Oh, so you’ll make me suffer finding a replacement and needing to make sure he can sing the part properly?” 

“Easier than finding a replacement for you. Not that many countertenors in the world.”

“My understudy would do fine in a pinch.”

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna pinch her ass. She’d sue me for harrassment, even if it’s in the script.”

“About that, stop treating that part of the scene like foreplay. While I have no trouble having sex with you on stage, it _will_ get us fired.”

Thor grinned and leaned in for a kiss. “Fine. But I get to play it out like how I want in private.”

“Kinky.”

“Says the one who likes to enact the final duet of _L’Incoronazione di Poppea_ as a double suicide.”

“The French call it _la petite mort_.”

Thor kissed him again and murmured, “Well, should we try for a grand finale instead?”

*~*~*~*

Things settled and the adaptation of _The Rabbit of Seville_ was another hit. But the three of them agreed that they should wait a few years before even considering another collaboration.

They never managed it, though Loki and Thor did end up buying a house together in the Hamptons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> obviously inspired by the wondrous Looney Tune shorts of _What's Opera, Doc?_ ([excerpt](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6jDcWAWRRHo)) and _The Rabbit of Seville_ ([excerpt](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LDLmrEck6kA))


	15. Chapter 15

Laufey’s roar shook the throne room. His counsellors pressed their hands to their ears and waited fearfully for their king to calm himself.

When finally Laufey slumped into his throne, he placed a large hand to his swollen abdomen and set bleak eyes to the cowering prophetess. She had not dared meet his gaze throughout her pronouncement, a dire prophecy that spoke of the unborn child, Laufey’s heir, as being the means of his sire’s destruction and that of Jötenheim. Laufey at last dismissed her, and she scrambled to her feet and left his presence. She would never be seen again by any in the capital city.

Laufey brooded over the ominous words. When it came quickening time, he indeed was delivered of a son, a healthy babe with the distinctive markings of his house and lineage. In despair, Laufey handed the babe to his most trusted counsellor with strict instructions to leave the child by the foot of the distant mountain as an offering to the deities. A proclamation would be issued that the babe had not survived. 

Perhaps the Norns frowned upon such wickedness, for the babe did survive. He was found by a small group of apprentice Healers from Asgard, who had arrived through an established portal to forage for rare herbs only to be found on this seemingly cold and desolate realm. The apprentices brought the babe to the Head Healer, who was astonished to witness the babe, clearly just birthed, change his blue form to that of the Aesir. Holding him close, she gently promised to care for him. She named him Loki.

The child grew to be a smart, capable child with a great thirst for knowledge and adeptness at magic. He learned alongside the other apprentices and was soon skillful enough to heal the minor injuries and illnesses of the populace who arrived at the Head Healer’s door. In spite her royal appointment to the Asgardian ruling house, she had insisted that, one day per week, she would see to the hurts of any Asgardian citizen who sought her aid.

On one fine day, a guard was sent in haste to seek healing for the young prince. Alas, the Head Healer was away from her home and the other Healers engaged with the long line outside the clinic door. Having finished with his patient, Loki boldly agreed to accompany the guard. When he was greeted by the queen herself, he did not hesitate to inform that he would examine the young prince’s injuries and treat as best as he could, but he would needs await his mother’s return if the malady was beyond his abilities. The queen smiled and led him to the prince’s chambers.

The prince had fallen from his horse and had broken bones in his foot and his left arm. Loki soon had the arm set and secured with splints and bandages. But before he could properly examine the injured foot, the prince cried out in pain and moved to avoid Loki’s touch. Undeterred, the young Healer sharply admonished the prince to remain still, else there was naught to be done but let him suffer until the return of the Head Healer. Several attendants gasped at his audacity, but the prince meekly obeyed. Loki carefully used his magic to penetrate the skin and weave together the fragments of bone. He then enveloped the foot within a sphere of magic and gave instructions that the prince was not to put any pressure upon the foot until the sphere was collapsed. He then handed an attendant a potion for pain with directions on its administration.

As he exited the room, he encountered both the All-father and the All-mother. He bowed respectfully, gave his report, and departed the palace.

It was the start of the unlikely friendship between the prince and the young Healer.

When he had attained his full Healer’s qualifications, Loki astonished his mother by announcing that he would join the Einherjar and serve as their medic. Over the years, he had had many opportunities to heal not only the injuries acquired by the prince during training but those of his fellow trainees. Prince Thor would refuse any other Healer sent to treat him and only grudgingly allowed the Head Healer to examine him if Loki insisted that he could not treat the problem.

Loki proved a great asset to the elite warriors. His years of handling people of all ages and from all walks of life had given him an especially keen eye for unruly behaviour and the management of said behaviour. His adeptness at the complexities of magic seemed to lend itself easily and readily to strategy, and he was soon one of the prince’s most trusted counsellors.

On Loki’s 500th year, scouts returned to Asgard with the alarming news that Laufey, in his dotage, was amassing a great army to storm the gates of Asgard. 

Odin sent Prince Thor and his warriors to quell the rebellion. 

Upon their first night in Jötenheim, Loki cajoled the prince into allowing him to scout the enemy encampment to know of their position and possibly gain news of their plans. 

What Loki failed to inform was of his intent on being captured by Laufey’s troops. 

As he stood before the King of Jötenheim, feigning ignorance of their tongue as they spoke of the best means to torture him, he carefully loosened his bonds and, at the opportune moment, drove his conjured knife into the enemy King’s heart. He had not intended to survive the assassination, and whence Laufey grasped his arms to burn him and bring him alongside to Hel’s realm, none was more astonished than Loki to see his skin turn a vivid blue, his markings alighting before the enemy’s eyes.

Drawing his last breath, Laufey moaned, “My son. So the Norns have seen the prophecy fulfilled.” 

When finally those present recovered their wits, the counsellors bombarded Loki with pleas to speak to the All-father and beg forgiveness, to inform the Asgardian ruler that the Jotnar had been reluctant to wage war against him. They begged to be spared Odin’s wrath. 

When at last Loki found his voice to demand answers for Laufey’s final words, he learned of his true heritage. He learned that Laufey had failed to produce another heir and, as the last of the royal line, he was the rightful King of Jötenheim. The counsellors fell to their knees to beg for the lives of his people.

Loki numbly assented. Calling for Heimdall’s aid, he briefly informed that the war was ended and requested an audience with the All-father.

The walk along the Bifrost to the palace gates had never seemed so long.

As he stood before the All-father, feelings of betrayal surfaced, and he reported on his mission. He then renounced his kingship and gifted Jötenheim to Asgard. 

He disappeared.

Two centuries later, the All-father fell into an Odinsleep, and Thor could at long last compel Heimdall to assist in discovering Loki’s whereabouts. Heimdall failed to locate Loki across the known realms.

Thor fell into despair and was only aroused by the presence of the Head Healer, who demanded of Thor’s intentions toward Loki. When informed that they were honourable, that Thor did not seek to punish Loki for the sins of his father, the Head Healer gently told of a tale among the Jotnar of one who travelled across their realm to bring healing during the first years of their yoke. When the All-father had relented in his torments of the hapless peoples, the Jotunn healer had vanished. But there were recent rumours that her apprentices overheard of a recluse living atop the mountain in the most remote region of Jötenheim. Only the most desperate sought him and were granted aid. 

It was a fortnight’s weary travel from the Jotnar capital to the mountain. The treacherous terrain meant that Thor could only traverse on foot. 

As he stood before the door of the small hut recessed into the side of the mountain, Thor debated the boxes he held. He unlidded that of the Head Healer, which issued forth a gentle lullaby.

The door crashed open, and Loki stumbled out. He stood stockstill when he realized the identity of his visitor. He turned toward the safety of his hut but was stopped by a tug at his arm, followed by a tight embrace.

Loki’s struggling finally ceased when warm lips planted a desperate kiss.

It would be a day before Thor could convince Loki that his absence had finally clarified Thor’s long-held feelings of love, a love beyond that of friendship and of the brotherhood shared amongst the warriors. It would take another two days to convince Loki to return with him, to rule as co-regents first of Jötenheim and later of Asgard and all the realms when eventually Thor succeeded his father.

Before they departed, Thor pressed the other box into his beloved’s hands, a gift of the All-mother. Loki unleashed an impending springtime of abundance and warmth thus far unseen in the realm.

By the time Odin awoke, Loki would have begat the next heir to the realms and one who would ensure that peace and prosperity reigned throughout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the Oedipus myth and, ironically, doesn't have incest.


	16. Chapter 16

When a new coffee shop opened up in Stoke Newington, no one paid much attention. Its name, “The Stork’s Roast”, was unusual, certainly, but there were plenty of other coffee shops in the area. And besides, these small businesses came and went like the seasons. 

But then the sign went up: Nursing Mothers Welcome. 

Indeed they were. The area inside the bay window looking out to the back of the shop was set up with two long, cushioned benches and a semi-circle of plush armchairs. A sign designated it the Nursing Corner; there was a fold-up screen that could be opened for extra privacy.

The barista and owner was a young slip of a girl with dark, shoulder-length curls and sharp green eyes. She looked barely twenty years of age. But she soon proved that she was no push-over.

A trio of old-timers had decided to try out the new-fangled place because word had spread that the coffee was of superb quality for its price. And it was: when asked, the owner, who introduced herself as Loki, informed that she had an agreement with a fair trade company that sourced its beans from independent growers, some closer to home than one would expect. She refused to answer queries about profit margins and the expense of running such a shop.

The Nursing Corner was busy, it being mid-afternoon, and several young mothers were happily chatting away. One of the old-timers made a scathing comment about indecency, staring pointedly at the group of mothers. His two companions loudly agreed.

The next moment, Loki stood beside the commentators and asked them to leave. They refused and started scolding her about her poor attitude toward paying customers. Loki asked if they had been breastfed as children. Taken aback, they answered honestly: two said yes, the third no. To the latter, she tutted, “You poor, deprived man” and to the other two, she asked sweetly how their mothers would have reacted if, while nursing, they were accused of acting indecently. The trio stalked off the premise in grumbling bad humour, made worse by the applause that escorted them out.

Others who subsequently shared the same views were also sent away—any who raised a fuss were given the option of being escorted out by the owner or the police—and told to never darken her door again. Those who had the audacity to not heed the warning found out that Loki had a photographic memory and were denied service. 

One quiet afternoon, Loki was doing some re-stocking and inventory, having served her last customer, when she noticed that the Nursing Corner had been taken over by the man in three-piece suit, flashy watch, and Italian leather shoes. He had his laptop out and was clearly speaking to his assistant on his cell. She waited until the call ended and then asked him to move. She suggested the cozy corner with a wide-enough table for his equipment. He was outraged. The Nursing Corner was empty, so why did he have to move? She stood her ground, stating that the area was reserved for mothers and unless he had an identity problem, he did not fit the description. He stood and loomed over her, seeming ready to slap her. She stared at him undaunted and brought his attention to the cell in her hand, with “999” already displayed and her finger over the “phone” button. He angrily packed up his belongings and stormed out. 

An hour later, an anonymous review appeared on TripAdvisor complaining about poor customer service. Loki responded that if “anon” was one Willard Doherty who worked as a Claims Examiner for Lloyds of London, he’d left his card case behind. On the shop’s blog, she told her followers that in honour of her latest walk-out, she’d created a Wall of Shame which she called “Privileged White Male Arsery”. The list steadily grew, and she was not shy about listing full names with pictures (most taken from her security cameras) and occupations if the offender was a known public figure, like the real estate agent whose fatheaded photo graced the billboard down the street.

She would later rename the wall “Privileged White Arsery” after a snotty public school girl and her posse also felt entitled to take over the Nursing Corner. When asked to either move or leave the premises, the girl had arrogantly revealed that her daddy was the MP for Chelsea and Fulham and dared Loki to touch a hair on her head. The police escorted them out. The following day, the Daily Mail had a small front page headline talking about a confrontation between the MP’s daughter and an independent small business barista. It was an election year, and the MP came in person to apologize and to buy a round of coffees for customers in attendance.

The shop’s blog had been receiving trolling remarks ever since the second week after opening and these became a steady stream of vitriol following the article’s publication. There were even death threats. Loki responded to the nasty remarks with a discourse on her personal blog on the history of oppression, containing quotes from Gandhi, Dr Martin Luther King, Jr, and Maya Angelou as well as barbed comments on the state of the patriarchy. To the death threats, she posted a high quality video with sound of her being confronted by a masked man with a knife who demanded all the money in her till. In five short moves, she’d relieved him of his weapon, had him prostrate on the ground, and phoned to have him arrested. She also wrote an essay on corporal punishment during the age of slavery in America, with quotes from the New Testament and the Quran about non-violence. 

One Friday evening while she was closing shop, a group of men with baseball bats walked in. Unfortunately for them, her boyfriend had gotten off work early and was helping out. Turned out that he was Thor, a retired heavyweight boxing champion who worked at the local animal shelter and occasionally volunteered as a firefighter. The gang was left trussed up before the local police station, their mouths duct-taped, and a copy of the video evidence stuck to the chest of the gang leader. Its removal was a painful one involving the sacrifice of a chunk of thick chest hair. 

Thor began helping out whenever he could on weekends, and no further violent incidents occurred during business hours. However, Loki came back on a Monday to a vandalized shop, the glass windows smashed in and her coffee beans either scattered over the floor or the bulk of her stock gone missing. Undeterred, she rented a small space inside the bakery across the street and did take-away coffees while the shop was under repairs. She re-opened several weeks later with an expanded Nursing Corner. 

After being in business for half-year, the small shop became a hub for a diverse group of people across all walks of life and cultures. One time, a customer of Arabic descent had been attracted to the comfortable chairs but had made a face at the coffee served. When asked how she preferred her coffee made, she was at a loss to explain but helpfully pointed out a useful Youtube video. Even after following the instructions, the coffee still didn’t taste quite right, but she was appreciative of Loki’s efforts. Nowadays, Loki had a staff who came in twice a week to make proper Arabian coffee. Another came on Wednesdays to make traditional Ethiopian coffee; the whole ritual became almost a tourist attraction as people from all over came in just to experience it. Thursdays turned into Cultural Surprise Day, when a specialist would come in to brew coffee in their native style; the Special of the Day was Turkish one week, Vietnamese the next, and so forth.

But, of course, the grumblings got louder. As did the acts of violence. Even with the frequent patrols by local law enforcement (Loki had adamantly refused to hire a security guard, stating that it would make her customers uncomfortable; instead, she recommended self-defense classes and even gave some impromptu karate lessons during times of lull—she had a black belt. Thor stated proudly that she had a mean left hook.), the vandalism continued, although it was more minor and was merely inconvenient compared to the first time. 

On the eve of the shop’s one-year anniversary, business was slower than usual. Loki had hinted that she would be doing something special to celebrate, so many of her regulars gave her time to do some last-minute planning. There were roughly half-dozen occupied tables when four teenaged skinheads stormed in with their guns. But before they could even raise their weapons to shoot, their guns were dropped and they were clutching their wounded arms. The “customers” surrounded the gunmen with weapons raised. The patrol cars soon arrived and escorted the group away. 

All the major newspapers reported on the incident the following day. In a press conference for Scotland Yard, it was revealed that Loki had been part of a task force to uncover an illegal firearms racket across the country. They had been monitoring the chatter among the local gangs involved in the racket and had known that the shop would be targeted. 

Loki was not a part of the press conference, being too busy serving her customers, answering their questions, and laughing at their shocked expressions when she served them _tea_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it’s pretty obvious what prompted this particular story. The Christchurch incident is just so unfortunately the latest in a series of tragedies due to gun violence and racism and intolerance. Women are especially vulnerable to such crimes, so a little tribute to the brave ones who continue to work tirelessly to promote equality. I purposely set the story in the UK rather than the US because the easy access to guns in the States is horrifying. I also purposely downplayed the violence and limited the civilian casualties because the realism isn't the point. 
> 
> And I couldn’t work it into the story, but Loki’s dad is a retired army general with more decorations than the skinheads have racist tattoos. And her mom is some Lady so-and-so and the source of her funding. This isn’t the first front she's run for the task force, but she ends up staying, though she and Thor would close shop for a few months periodically to help other similar operations.


	17. Chapter 17

Okoye sighed as she stared out the window at the unrelenting rain. Even with the systems of canals and troughs that they’d built to collect the waters and sell to neighbouring countries in a negotiated bartering system, there was still concern that their lands would be overwhelmed by the torrent. She huffed. What was the point of gods if all they did was cause grief and destruction?

A sudden burst of light from the lands just beyond the borders of the city had her on high alert. She gave quick instructions, sent a concise message to the Queen and Queen Mother, and made her decisive way toward the location. A handful of the Dora Milaje had surrounded a figure that had emerged from the light, their spears pointed inward. Okoye stopped short as she recognized the man. His hands were raised in surrender, though he smirked at her and gave a nod of acknowledgement. He was surrounded by a soft glow that kept him bone dry.

“We were told you had died at the hands of the Destroyer of Worlds,” Okoye said. She gestured at the storm clouds overhead. “His Majesty was convinced of it.”

Loki’s grin slipped, but then he cocked his head and replied, “I am here upon special dispensation. If you would be so kind as to acquire permission for me to speak with my brother, I will see to the return of the sun to your lands.”

Okoye motioned for the warriors to escort Loki toward the palace as she reported to the Queen. When they arrived at the doors, Queen Shuri came running out and, to the shock of all, hugged Loki and bade him welcome. “I’ve heard so much about you from Thor! You must show me your magics. I have some new tech that could use your suggestions for their improvement. But never mind that. First, you have got to stop Thor from mourning you. Come!”

A dazed Loki submitted and followed her until they arrived at a nondescript door deep within the palace. Shuri knocked and then departed, squeezing Loki’s shoulder encouragingly. Loki took several breaths and let himself in.

His eyes adjusted to the dimness and found Thor curled upon himself on the narrow cot in the corner. He huffed and sat gingerly upon the bed. He pressed his lips to Thor’s neck and began a trail toward one broad shoulder. The motionless body jerked and spun around, staring disbelievingly with mismatched eyes. Thor sobbed as Loki pressed a kiss to his chapped lips. Loki only gave a small grunt as he was crushed against Thor’s chest, too distracted with devouring his beloved and weaving his fingers through the silken locks that had begun growing out.

In a different part of the palace, Okoye shifted nervously as another rumble of thunder shook the building. The Queen was much too delighted to worry about safety. The Queen Mother shook her head and murmured wistfully about love eternal. To Okoye’s relief, the danger passed within the hour. The sunlight was blinding after months of dark grey skies.

Within Thor’s chambers, the brothers had finally collapsed of exhaustion. 

When they finally awoke and Thor looked sufficiently recovered, Loki explained that Odin had bargained with the Norns. As Lord of Valhalla, the All-father still retained sufficient standing that Loki was allowed to be released to Midgard for the purpose of aiding in the defeat of Thanos, after which he would needs return. He stroked Thor’s face, smoothing the furrowed brow as his brother let out a resigned sigh. 

“’Tis by their grace that I have been permitted to return to your side, _elskr_. Be thankful I was not on Helheim. Our dear sister would hardly have eased her clutches after our offensive.”

Thor responded by tightening his hold and burying his head against Loki’s shoulder.

On the eve of their planned attack of Vormir, where they had finally located Thanos, Thor pulled Loki aside and insisted upon a permanent bonding. Loki stared flabbergasted at his beloved. 

“I know even if we became soul-bound, I cannot keep you here, _hjarta minn_ ,” Thor said. “But I would still desire this affirmation of our love. Please, brother. The remainder of my life without you would be more bearable.”

Loki relented. Beneath the stars, they pledged to one another. 

And when finally Loki had to depart this mortal plane, Thor kept him in his embrace until he faded in a slow shimmer of effervescence. 

But perhaps the Norns were not as merciless as the tales told, for upon the anniversary of their avowal, Loki appeared upon the threshold of Thor’s new abode, the reassembled Asgardians having settled on Titan. And he lay a newborn babe into his dumbfounded spouse’s arms.

Every year subsequent, Loki was allowed a one-day reunion with his family. Other babes were birthed and left in their father’s care; they would write missives for their mother to bring to the All-father in Valhalla and the All-mother in Folkvangr. One fearless, golden-haired girl even sent a message to the Norns. She would eventually succeed her father as ruler of New Asgard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the Chinese folktale of The Cowherd and Weaver Girl. A link to one variation of the story: https://www.theepochtimes.com/the-cowherd-and-the-weaver-girl_835790.html


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> outtake of Ch 10, variation 1 of The Odyssey

On the third day of his return, Loki informed Thor that he would spend some time in the Healing Rooms, to ensure that he was returned to optimal health. Traversing the far reaches of the universe had tested his strength. As special dispensation and acknowledgement to their status, the Head Healer would allow the King to slumber with the Royal Consort in the Rooms, although they were under strict orders to respect the function of the Rooms and act with propriety. Thor grinned sheepishly.

But his ability to keep his hands from roaming was not tested, as during the first two days in the Healing Rooms, Loki suffered violent vomiting. It was a testament to the Healers’ capabilities that he did not become emaciated, the frequency with which he expelled any and all meals that passed his lips. 

On the third day, he suffered fever and was forced to assume his Jötunn form to alleviate his discomfort.

The morn of the fifth day dawned as customary, with Thor awaking first and happily embracing the warm body within his arms.

Loki was rudely startled into consciousness by Thor’s bellowing for the Head Healer, who came rushing in to demand what befell the Royal Consort this day. 

“There is an alien being who has invaded Loki’s body. You must remove it!”

“How came you to such a conclusion, Majesty?”

Thor pointed at Loki’s rounded belly. “It kicked me!”

The Head Healer was usually a calm if stern matron, but at Thor’s pronouncement, she burst into laughter. 

Loki turned to his beloved and said rebukingly, “It is not kind to call one’s child an alien being.”

Thor looked bewildered. “What child?”

“Yours and mine, _elskr_.”

When comprehension failed to dawn, a displeased Loki viciously kicked his oafish love off the bed. The fall must have brought Thor to his senses, for he scrambled from the floor and attacked his beloved’s lips, enveloping him in a ferocious embrace.

Finally having calmed of his elation, Thor bent down to reverently touch his beloved’s swelling. He pressed gentle kisses and laughed in delight when his unborn reacted.

The Head Healer had also recovered from her fit of mirth and informed their majesties that, with confirmed movement of the unborn royal, the babe was at a sufficiently advanced stage of development that they could discover its sex. 

Thor carried Loki to the examination table, all the while pressing kisses atop his beloved head.


	19. Chapter 19

_There once were two brothers, one known for his strength, the other for his intellect._

Thor landed wearily before the steps of the main hall and made his way to the council chambers, where he was greeted warmly by Heimdall and Brynhildr. When asked if he succeeded in his unrevealed quest, he shook his head. He asked in turn if all was well with New Asgard and gave a small smile of relief when told they fared well, that Heimdall and Brynhildr’s temporary rule had been uneventful. He pleaded a day’s grace to rest from his long travels, arranging for a meeting with them on the morrow to catch up with the affairs of his kingdom during his absence. 

As he made his way to his chambers, he mulled over his many months of travel. He had traversed every corner of the existing worlds. And every place he visited, he had asked the same question: know the locals of any well-travelled storyteller or sorcerer with the gift of words who had enthralled with tales from their explorations of the realms. In many regions, he was pointed toward the busiest tavern or inn, wherein he would meet the person in question. He would purchase a mug of ale (or wine if it were a woman) and thus begin his request: he had heard a story long ago but had quite forgotten the ending. He hoped the storyteller knew the tale, which began thus:

_There once were two brothers, one known for his strength, the other for his intellect. They spent much of their time together seeking adventures and fighting battles. They loved one another and always watched over each other’s safety. However, because they were brothers, each with his own unique abilities and pride, they also fought. One morning, a sunny day like any other, they broke fast together and discussed their plans for the day. But though the day began auspiciously, it did not end so. For…_

Thor would pause and look ardently at his companion, who would continue the story. Many spun exciting tales of adventure into unknown realms ending in some slight mishap. Some wove stories of woe. A few of the more learned recognized the identity of the two brothers and recounted the many shared events in Thor and Loki’s life: their infamous hunting of the bilgesnipe that gave Thor the scar across his left shoulder, their quest to seek the strongest steed for Odin All-father and the taming of eight-legged Sleipnir, the coming of Ragnarok, the defeat of The-Destroyer-of-Worlds and the costly restoration of the realms. 

Thor listened patiently to each tale and, at the conclusion, thanked the teller and offered a small token of recompense for their time, saying, regretfully, that it was not the one he sought. He then departed from the building, raised Stormbreaker, and landed in another habitat. And asked anew his query.

He eventually exhausted new lands in which to inquire. He returned to New Asgard with a heavy heart.

Thor was drawn from his musings by a page, who informed that a stranger had arrived and sought an audience with the king; the stranger claimed to be a storyteller of renown and had heard that the king was seeking one such as he. Though weary, Thor was intrigued and bid the page bring the storyteller to the room adjacent the council chambers, where the king often gave private audience.

The unfamiliar storyteller was a middle-aged man with grey in his beard and dust-laden clothes that spoke of much travel. But he had keen eyes, and they smiled as he greeted Thor, All-father, King of Asgard, God of Thunder, Protector of the Nine Realms. Thor dismissed his august titles with a wave and bade the man partake of refreshments. 

When the man had politely downed his goblet of ale, he waited expectantly. Thor told him that he was indeed seeking a storyteller, for he had once heard a tale, but it had been so many years that he had quite forgotten the ending. He hoped the storyteller would complete the story for him. He began telling what he remembered of the tale.

_There once were two brothers, one known for his strength, the other for his intellect. They spent much of their time together, seeking adventures and fighting battles. They loved one another and always watched over each other’s safety. However, because they were brothers, each with his own unique abilities and pride, they also fought._

_One morning, a sunny day like any other, they broke fast together and discussed their plans for the day. But though the day began auspiciously, it did not end so. For…_

Here Thor paused and looked earnestly at the middle-aged man. The man’s smile had faded once the story began, and now, his face assumed a look of inscrutability. Under Thor’s intent gaze, he suspirated and then took up the tale.

_For they had been living a lie through their many years. And now that the strong brother had become king of their lands and all the lands in the known universe, he did not wish to continue the lie. The warrior brother and king demanded that they reveal on that day the truth of his scholar brother’s heritage to their people, the truth that his brother was not in fact of the king’s blood but a foundling raised by their kindly parents, the former king and queen._

_The brother begged that his true identity remain hidden, afeared that he would be rejected and scorned by the people and turned out of the only place he had come to consider his home, for he was born of the greatest enemy of the people, an enemy who was wicked and cruel, an enemy whom the people told to their children were monsters that would capture them and take them away if they misbehaved._

_The warrior brother dismissed his brother’s fears and claimed their people deserved to know the truth. The scholar brother bowed his head in defeat and, wordlessly, returned to his chambers, where he packed his few belongings and quietly left the realm._

_The warrior brother was enraged when he learned of his brother’s departure. He stormed about the palace and would not allow any to say his brother’s name in his presence. At last, he could not tolerate such insubordination, for beloved though his brother was, he was yet a subject of the kingdom. And so, in disguise, the warrior brother travelled the known realms in search of his wayward brother, to capture him and return him to their lands for judgement._

_The warrior brother told of his quest to none, not even his most trusted counsellors, for he knew his brother of old. If his clever brother knew he was being hunted by one of the best in all the realms, he would ensure he could never be found, whether in his brother’s lifetime or that of his successors._

_And so, the warrior brother travelled from one realm to the next, planet to planet, region to region, asking ever the same question: had any seen one, quick-witted and clever with words, who was as skilled a weaver of spells as of tales and lies. And he found such individuals, and such tales they were, some even true._

_Alas, try as he might, searching far and long and thorough, the warrior brother failed to find his brother. He at last returned to his kingdom. He became occupied with the tasks of kingship and eventually forgot his brother. He lived a prosperous life and died a ripe old age._

Upon reaching the end of his tale, the middle-aged man stood, gave a low, mocking bow and a wink, and disappeared before Thor had even jumped from his seat to make his way toward his guest.

“Loki! Come back! Please, come back!” 

Thor collapsed in tears and was found in such a state by Heimdall. With little coaxing, Thor poured forth his tale of grief: he had desired to prove to Loki that he need no longer fear his Jötunn heritage, that he had proved his worth in the eyes of their people and they would accept him as he truly was. He did not wish Loki to live any longer in shame. But alas, as it always was between them, they argued the matter and Loki had once again disappeared in anger. Thor had hoped that time would cool his brother’s rage and he would return. But after a twelve-month of hope, Thor began to fear he had once again lost his brother and as a result of his own blundering. Hiding his identity, he had sought Loki across the universe but to no avail. All the while, his brother had followed him but refused to reveal himself… until this day, upon Thor’s return. But he remained displeased with Thor and stayed only long enough for his brother to recognize him through his disguise. He was gone once again and Thor did not know where to seek him.

Heimdall listened silently to Thor’s tale and consoled him that Loki would eventually return. He was certain of this, for what reason had Loki to secretly accompany Thor on his quest and reveal himself to his brother but that he could not bear to be parted from him any more than Thor. Heimdall persuaded Thor to freshen himself and partake of a meal, and when his king acquiesced, the Gatekeeper summoned a maidservant to attend the king.

The maidservant curtseyed as she set down a tray laden with food. She timidly informed that she would draw his majesty a bath and then assisted in disrobing and cleansing him with gentle but sure hands. She then rubbed healing oils across his flesh and quietly observed the king as he ate, filling his goblet and finally removing the plates. 

When the king announced his intention to retire for the evening, she pulled back the covers when he declined her assistance in disrobing. As she placed the coverlet over the king, she asked if there was aught she could do for him and was answered with a request that she sing a lullaby. She chose a soft, simple one much beloved of Asgardian infants and one that had been created by Queen Frigga herself. 

As she brought the song to its end, she murmured, “Goodnight, your majesty.”

His eyes already closed, Thor replied in a sleepy voice, “I love you, Loki.”

The maidservant gasped and rose to flee but found her escape impeded by strong hands gripping her wrists. She stared bewildered into the blazing eyes. She stammered “My king, y-you are mistaken—” and hissed in pain as the hold tightened.

She suddenly found herself sprawled atop the king and kissed breathless.

When finally her lips regained freedom, though she was held firmly in the king’s embrace, she stared down at his eyes, now looking with tenderness. 

“Loki, please, let me see you.”

There was a sigh, and the features of the young maidservant transformed into the familiar features of the God of Mischief. Thor smiled and pressed kisses about the beloved face.

“Did you think I would not recognize your touch? And who other could know which parts of my body would most need relief from soreness and pain after long travels? Your song may be known to many, but only Mother would accompany it with a spell to soothe. It is fortunate that you could not kiss my forehead in your guise, as Mother did to complete the weaving, for you would have slipped my grasp once more as I slumbered.”

His smile did not falter upon seeing Loki’s furrowed brows. “I have missed you, brother. I am sorry I angered you during our last conversation. You know that I do not wield words as skillfully as you. I only wished to show that you need not fear revealing your Jötunn heritage to our people for they would accept you in all your guises. They could not scorn the one who saved them from destruction. You must believe this.”

“Oh, must I? Even if they did not openly show their contempt, they will still harbour doubts. How could they not? However noble my actions may be deemed by you, you cannot control their minds nor can you dispel lifetimes of belief that the Jötnar are monsters, capable only of cruelty and evil.”

“They will accept you, brother, for I have done a census.”

“I beg pardon?”

“I had the Council ask our people if they could accept a Royal Consort not of Asgardian origins. They did not even demur when presented with the possibility of one of the same race as Thanos. They only objected were my choice in alliance with Hela.”

Loki was bereft of speech. He could but stare slack-jawed at his brother. 

“I have bungled this again. I am sorry. Loki, beloved, _hjarta minn_ , I do not wish to spend another day without you by my side. Will you cleave unto me in this lifetime and into the eternal one?”

“No... no...” Loki struggled out of Thor’s embrace, failing. “I cannot—you cannot want me after—” 

His continued tussling landed them upon the floor. Collapsing against Thor, he began sobbing. 

The perplexed Thor held his brother close, rubbing soothingly across his back, pressing kisses atop his head, murmuring endearments and assurances. 

When at last he calmed sufficiently, Loki quietly and brokenly told of his anger and self-loathing expressing as neglect of his well-being. He had been forced to cease the abuse when he had bled out from his nether region and discovered to his horror that he had… had lost their child. Loki dared not look at Thor throughout his account, speaking his words to the juncture of neck and shoulder, and he felt Thor stiffen upon hearing the dreaded truth. 

But Thor did not hurl him away in disgust. Instead, he pressed a gentle kiss to his temple and said “I am sorry. I am such a fool. If I had not provoked you, we—” before succumbing to grief. 

Loki could do naught of the stranglehold until Thor’s outpour of anguish calmed. Thor obeyed his muffled demand to be allowed breath. 

The brothers stared at one another. Loki wiped away the tears that marred the beloved face and pressed a trembling kiss, silently begging forgiveness. Thor brought a hand to the nape of Loki’s neck and deepened the kiss. 

A knock interrupted them.

Thor opened the door to a smiling Heimdall.

“I see you have found your brother. I shall inform the Council that a meeting with the king will convene upon the overmorrow after the midday meal. Goodnight, Majesty, Highness.”

Thor carefully gathered his beloved in his arms and laid him on the bed. He enveloped his brother in a tight embrace and waited until he was sure Loki had drifted to sleep before succumbing in turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based on Scheherazade/Shahryar of _1001 Arabian Nights_ fame.
> 
> as i could never hope to write something as compelling as salakavala's [in heart of hearts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18537571), i had to take a different tack.

**Author's Note:**

> “And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you.”  
> ― Kiersten White, The Chaos of Stars


End file.
